• Closed • Waking Up

[Faith Augustin]

123rd Vhalar, 716

the morning and trial after this thread

Since the first trial that she could remember, Faith had woken early, long before the dawn and been up, ready to work. So, how it was that on this, her second trial of freedom, her eyelids fluttered open to recognise the light of the trial, she did not know. For a few trills, she was completely confused as to where she was; then cognition and understanding fell in and she stretched in her bed. Her bed, the like of which had never happened before, she could not hide her delight at it. But then, as she wiggled her toes and felt content in the moment, the realisation that not only was it light, but that there was movement in the living area caused her to sit up at speed and poke her head out of the curtains with a rather bleary expression "It's morning? How did that happen?" Stepping out in a plain, long and almost entirely shapeless white nightgown she looked around and shook her head "I never sleep late. What time is it?" In fairness, her definition of sleeping late was still early for any sane person. Once she had brushed her teeth (which he would discover was the first thing she did every morning without fail) in a strange liquorice and baking soda paste mixed with mint, she walked over to where Padraig was. Slipping one arm around him, she stood on her tip toes and kissed him before whispering "Good morning." Her smile was mischievous as she continued to speak "I hope I didn't dream that conversation last night, or I've just utterly embarrassed myself."

Taking the cup of tea that he offered her she leaned her head against his shoulder and just stood for a moment, happy to be there and simply feel his closeness, then she took a gulp of the tea and smiled up at him. "I have to get busy. Lots to do. Do you want me to pick up any of those supplies? I have to go to the market. I need some things to feed us this evening, other than anything else. Have you eaten? Can I get you something to eat before I go? It's no bother, really. But if you're going to sort out that room, do you need the money? We could consider opening a bank account, you know or something. rather than keeping money in the house. It's more secure. I'm babbling, I'm sorry." Lapsing into silence she hugged against him although, when he hugged her back she tensed and winced slightly. "I'm going to mix up some salve for this shoulder. Later, will you help me put it on? It feels tight, and it was stitched on the fly. I'll have a hot bath with some salt and then salve it before bed, if you don't mind?" Silver eyes regarded him in all seriousness and then, she went to get dressed, tidied around, cooked breakfast if he wanted some and washed up whatever was to wash up before kissing him on the cheek and leaving for the morning.

~~~

When she got back, a lot later in the trial, she had a few things with her, carried in a black canvas shopping bag. She gave a wry smile as she realised that she'd lifted a hand to knock the door and instead, reached into her pocket and fished out her key. Unlocking the door, she walked in and couldn't help but beam with delight at doing so. As soon as she opened the door it was obvious that he was home, the fire was lit and the place was toasty. Faith lowered her bag and removed her coat, by which time he had already moved over to her. "It's snowing. Like, really snowing", she didn't really need to tell him, her hair had flakes on it and her cheeks and nose were red from the wind and cold. "It isn't sticking, it's just frosty. I might buy some wool, or thick material, though and make a scarf and some gloves. It's cold out there and not going to get warmer."

It was strange, she considered. She wasn't quite sure how she was supposed to behave in this moment. So, she defaulted to her usual. "As well as working as a chef, I work as a seamstress. I made all the costumes for the play, the one with the King? I could make things for you, if you wanted?" She lowered her eyes, seeking his hands and placing hers in them. "I feel awkward. I got things for us, and a few things for you. How was your trial? Did you do everything you wanted to" Once he had answered, she moved to kick off her wonderfully comfortable shoes and looked down at them, critically. When the snows started to stick, they would be light and not comfortable any more, because they would get wet and then freeze to her feet. But then, she considered, she could just buy new ones. That brought a smile to her face and she moved over to sit on the rug, holding the bag in one hand and his hand in the other. She knelt, an automatic position for her, but for all that her back was always straight, that seemed to be just her way of being and she was as relaxed as she could be.

"I don't understand relationships. Not like this. I just keep going back to what I know and I don't want to do that but you have to understand, it is all I know. You deserve more, to know that I am here because I choose to be. But I never met my parents. I have literally never even seen this kind of relationship. I think I'm about 20, maybe more maybe less and I have no other frame of reference. It's going to be hard breaking out of it and I am going to have to ask you to be patient with me." Reaching into the black bag, she pulled out two scrolls and handed one to him. Should he look, it was blank. "But I understand that communication is important. So I got these. That one is for you to keep. Look." Jumping up, she got a quill and ink pot and came back over, kneeling down and lowering her head to write on her scroll. She grinned, then motioned to him to open his and indeed, written there in unmistakeably her handwriting were the words:

Plan for bathing the cat 2

Sitting back on her heels she looked as delighted as she felt "When you close it, it will disappear. The same thing works both ways. But with these, if I have reverted to slave and you don't want to say it, or if there is anything you don't want to say but want me to know, then you can use these. Do you like them? It, I suppose. Yours, that is. Oh, I told you I was shoddy at this." She reached forward to take his hand, silver eyes intent on his expression, checking that what she was saying made sense "I just want you to know that I am where I am choosing to be, is all." Her hand squeezed his and she developed a wicked glint in her eyes "And I wondered, Padraig. What do you know about making wine?" A random question? Maybe. A diversionary tactic from discussing feelings? Certainly. But judging by her expression she had some reason for it.

[Padraig]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=4018[/img]

It was the night before when he'd told her to leave the washing up till the morning. They were both tired, she'd been through a lot already, and the dishes wouldn't get up and walk away if they left them. She had a lifetime behind her of tidying up, making sure that all was right with the world for others, and not her. So even such a small thing as that must have been difficult. But Padraig had insisted.

And when she climbed out of bed and emerged from behind the curtain, she'd find him at the sink, finishing up the last of the mess himself. He looked her way and quirked a brow at what she was wearing. Concealing all her curves from a gaze that appreciated her beauty all the same, nonetheless it would have passed for a potato sack, had it been made of sturdier stuff. "It's still early," he told her when she wandered over, and he slipped an arm round her waist and kissed her. "You didn't dream it. You slept well?" he asked as he handed her a cup. Truth was, if she'd slept soundly, he hadn't done quite as well. Just knowing she was there, nearby in her bed, was a distraction. But he was determined that she should take her time. So if she'd asked, he'd have said he'd slept fine.

"I've got a full trial ahead," he said, but then prompted her towards the table, where he'd covered a plate that sat there waiting. "But I made you breakfast." She might have predicted it wouldn't be much. He'd told her more than once that he wasn't much of a cook. And what she'd find there confirmed it. Two boiled eggs and a chunk of bread fried in butter. "If you mean the ingredients to make what we were talking about last night, I can get most of it from mister Spekkle at work." Sulfur, charcoal, garrotte vine sap and ghost mushroom, he meant. "If you'd like, you could pick up some licorice root at the market. I can take care of the costs of the extra room. We can settle that later."

She flinched when he hugged her, and Padraig frowned. "Still smarting? Of course I'll help you." He didn't mind at all, and in fact with him to put the stuff on, he'd catch a much more substantial glance at bared flesh than her current wardrobe would ever allow. But he'd a busy trial ahead of him, nonetheless, and before she returned that evening, he'd have attended class, dropped into work and then made arrangements for an extra room built on to the house.

And in the meantime, the trial had only grown colder. In fact when she arrived home, Padraig was seated by the window with his notes, and was observing the house next door and the way the smoke from the chimney rolled down over the rooftop instead of drifting skyward. He'd just about figured why that was, when she came in. "I wouldn't mind a scarf," he told her, putting his work aside. And then he joined her on the rug in front of the fire. "I don't want you to feel rushed or pressured. It'll come in its own time. This is all new to me too," he told her and then frowned a little. "I've told you I was raised by my grandfather, but I never told you why. My mother was, or maybe," he considered, "a prostitute." Truth was, he doubted she still was. She'd been quite young back then, but no more considering the arcs which had passed.

"She showed up at my grandfather's door, gave birth a few trials later, then left me there. I've never known her. I don't know who my father is, and she probably didn't either." He said it so bluntly, in such a matter of fact way. But it just was what it was. It only meant that he was as much a stranger to proper relationships as she was.

The gift though; that was a wonder. He studied the scroll, and what she did with one of them. The scientist in him wanted to know just how it worked. The man apart from the scholar, smiled at the sentiment behind it. "I like them. Very much. Thank you." Her next question though caught him completely off guard. Wine? Apart from drinking it, knowing what appealed and what didn't? "Not a thing. Why do you ask?" he wondered.

► Show Spoiler

Off Topic

shopping: Garrotte Vine Sap, Ghost Mushroom, Construction for extra room

[Faith Augustin]

Padraig didn't have to insist on anything; he said to leave the washing up till the morning and she did. But when she saw that he was doing it, she looked absolutely striken at the thought that she had lounged around whilst he was working. She couldn't miss his glance at her though and she smiled as she looked down at the gown "It's comfortable. The only others I have are not comfortable and likely to get me frostbite. I made this after we were in the woods. I got a filthy cold so I had to sleep in my room, so as not to pass on my cold. I had a temperature and I was shivering all the time so I just wanted to be warm." That, and she had no interest whatsoever in wearing any of the other items of bed time attire that she had. They were from a different time. Leaning into his embrace and lingering in the kiss, when they separated she nodded "I don't know that I've ever slept so well. Or so much. How about you?" He answered her and she looked at him with a level gaze, not entirely believing him but equally not arguing. Her presence here was disrupting him, she knew and she studied his face. He looked tired, more than she'd seen him before and this was two nights now where he didn't sleep well. Because of her.

And he'd gotten up early to do this, too, thereby cutting his sleep even more. It couldn't continue and she needed to put it right. But first? "You made me breakfast?" She sat down and picked up the fork next to the meal he had prepared, feeling the muscles in her fingers tense around the handle. He wanted to look after her, to care for her and show her that he did. He was doing his best and doing it the best way he could and if she was anything but grateful, she would be spoiling it for him, so she smiled "That's lovely. Thank you. Would you sit with me? Share some, maybe?" The thought of sitting and eating whilst he worked was more than Faith could cope with in truth, but she did her best and ate. As she finished one egg, which was all she was ever likely to eat, she realised something. He made breakfast to show that he didn't expect any of the things that were expected of her before, not here and not with him. But he wasn't sleeping, and she was doing that to him. "I have two work dresses which are comfortable and sensible, but the rest, really, are not appropriate for this weather. I'd like to get some warm clothes, is that alright? I'll buy material rather than outfits, that's much cheaper. I know I'm asking, and I don't have to", she put her hand into his and tried to explain "But I wouldn't have asked yesterday and we can both pretend that I'm just checking to see if we have enough money." They were both pretending, after all, that he wasn't exhausted and she wasn't reeling so one more thing shouldn't make too much difference.

No matter that, though, they both had things to do and so they went about their trials. She was busy in hers, he was in his, but during it she though a lot about the morning and came to some conclusions about what it was that she should do. But all of that faded as she knelt opposite him on the rug in the small house they shared. She stayed quiet and listened to his tale as he told her about his mother, his grandfather and the circumstances of his birth, her face frowning as he spoke of being left. Never knowing. "The House of Roses", she whispered, placing her hand into his "That's the name of the brothel here. Where he sent me. They were kind, the women there. I tried not to show it, but they could tell I was afraid, I think. One of them took me to one side and spoke to me, told me that if I found myself with child, I should come back to them before I told anyone else, even Tristan. That they'd help me, keep me safe and make sure that the baby was alright." It was sad, she knew, but it was a fact of life "I suppose they have to deal with it the best way they can. Whatever she did, whoever she was or is, I'm glad you were born and are here now with me. However we got here, I'm glad we arrived. It's a strange place to start, but a good one"

But wine? She smiled, passion and determination shining from her. "I'm going to approach the King and the Empress. There is poverty, here, in our city, and people are excluded from things, because of it. If they wish it, I'm going to set up a charity, but one that funds itself. An exclusive restaurant, one where the nobles I've met and the King and the Empress will pay handsomely. The money from that, I want to fund community projects, food halls, orphanages, education centers but more than that. I want to buy land and grow crops, teach people how to grow them for free and use them in the restaurant that pays for the teachers to teach them. Keep livestock and teach people animal care and how to slaughter and prepare the animals. I want it to be a selling point, Padraig, the exclusive, hand grown ingredients. And I was thinking we could make wine. Home label, royal approval. But it looks awfully technical. Would you be interested in being involved? It's chemistry as far as I can see and you are the cleverest chemist I've met. In fact,", she leant forward and kissed him, a smile on her face as she did, leaning back and smiling as she added, "you are the cleverest man I've met."

The nearness of him was a distraction but she had to deal with this, because he was, without doubt, the cleverest man she had met and she couldn't harm him. "I'm stopping you sleeping, while I probably snore as loudly as I allegedly snort." She tried to keep it light but her hands in his held on tight. "I'm challenged by you making me a cup of tea, horrified at you doing dishes and close to apoplectic at you cooking for me, but Padraig I can't harm you by being here, all I can do is think of ways to change it. Should I go and stay in an Inn for a few trials, maybe I should lace your tea with sleeping powder, hit you with a brick or just give in to the inevitable and tell you that you wasted your money on my bed." Oh that didn't sound at all like she'd thought it would when she'd played it through in her head. "And I need you to know that the only reason that I am not just doing the last one without bothering to talk to you about it and giving you the delight of just discovering that's where I've gone in our apparently impromptu game of hide and seek," yes, it appeared that she had really thought about this. Perhaps too much, "is because you'd have doubts that I was ready for that and that isn't what I want for you." He'd be right of course, but that didn't matter right now. "So write it down if you want to, or tell me, or mime or sing or something, but lets work out what to do because you need to sleep and I need to know I'm not hurting you by being here. And so that we are clear, it is an inevitability that you wasted your money, at least as far as I am concerned."

[Padraig]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=4018[/img]

She'd made the gown after catching cold, after being made to sleep in her room. The cupboard, it went without saying. But Padraig remembered. And the more he'd witnessed for himself the toll slavery had taken on her, the more he wanted to turn her former master's face inside out. But he hadn't said anything. Her feelings now were tricky enough without him complicating them further.

But he'd cleaned up that morning and made breakfast for her. Though he'd already eaten himself, he'd joined her at the table for a cup of tea. And when she mentioned the clothing, he shook his head when she asked if it was alright. No, she didn't need his permission, he'd told her, and there was plenty whether hers, his or theirs. The weather was getting colder, she needed warmer clothing. She should buy them, or the fabric if she'd rather. Point being, the choice was hers to make. He understood the impulse though, to ask, but hoped there'd come a time when she'd realize she didn't need to.

Funny though, when she began to tell him about the plans she had turning around in her head, a talk with the king and empress, the charity, farms and education centers, her eyes lit up and she transformed right there in front of him. It was the most outspoken, confident and self assured she'd been since she'd arrived on his doorstep last trial. If only she realized, he thought, and could somehow manage to transfer that spirit to the rest of her new reality. He smiled, without realizing it but spoke in his usual blunt way. "That's a lot to take on, and I think you can do it. I have no doubt you can. You must have been planning this for a while." While she remained a slave still, she must have dreamed of it. Of course he'd already known that independent spirit was in there, laying dormant. But it was nice to see it on display.

"I've never thought of wine making before. But you're right, much of it would seem to be chemistry applied in a particular way. Yes," he decided. "I'd be interested. I'll need to do some reading up on it though." Surely, the library at the university would have plenty of reading material on the topic.

But then she reverted back to her demons, or so he considered them to be. No, he hadn't slept particularly well. But if he was a better liar, she wouldn't have worried. It wasn't his nature though and there'd be ticks to give him away. Still, he wondered what favors he was doing her, when she struggled with her own wants, as opposed to others. He loved her. He wanted her. But above all, he wanted her to find herself and her own voice first, before contending with other's. It was a narrow path to walk. "You don't snore. At least not that I've noticed," he said, trying to make the moment just a little bit lighter. "I don't need to write it down. And I don't like mimes." Who did, really?

"I'm human, and one restless night won't hurt me a bit. What I want more than anything is for you to be happy and to realize that your needs and wants are not less than anyone else's. I want you to discover what's best for you, with or without me." He'd rather it was with him. And it did his heart good to hear what she was thinking. But both went without saying. "As long as it takes, when, or if you're ready. If you're not, nothing changes." His feelings for her wouldn't, certainly. "And in the meantime," he teased, "a well aimed brick wouldn't go amiss."

[Faith Augustin]

She'd a lot to do? She didn't mind that one bit and she was happy to tell him so. But as for how long she'd been thinking of it, she shook her head "No. I always felt like I could do more, help people better. I think we have a duty to help those less fortunate. But the idea for the restaurant and charity all came in a big tumbling thought this afternoon when I was visiting Nir'wei to tell him about my freedom. Nir'wei is a Volareon and Jacadon handler for the Skyriders, so he's used to tending to animals. He has money to put in too." When Padraig said that he was in, though, she beamed in unadulterated delight and then, having reached into the black bag and rummaged a little, she handed him two books with a solemn expression which she couldn't manage to maintain. "I stopped by the library, so they're borrowed, not ours. Wine making for beginners, they tell me," her grin was genuine and delighted "If you're sure though? I'd like that so much, we can work together. But not disturbing your studies, of course." She added the last bit with a mock seriousness which was teasing, but yet entirely serious too.

"Well if it was a well aimed brick, it wouldn't go amiss, would it?", she teased back with a smile. Reaching into the bag, Faith pulled out two wool jumpers, two long thick woolen skirts and a pair of boots, all in dark shades or black, and plopped them down on the floor in between them. "I bought clothes", she was doing her best to appear serious but couldn't manage it, "And nice warm boots, look. I got these, too", this time the apparently bottomless bag produced a pair of soft, small and fluffy red slippers and then a much more masculine, camel-coloured pair which just happened to be exactly his size. Like she'd looked before she left. "Slippers for in the house. To keep our feet warm. Now, I know you're particular about shoes. Which pair would you like?", she wondered with a wicked smile, holding up both for him to choose. "And some other things, too. But I did shopping and I spoke to my friend." She'd realised some things speaking to Nir'wei, and as Padraig told her what he wanted, it all seemed to make sense to her. A sudden, but quite beautiful, moment of clarity. "Nir'wei said that he hoped I saw things straight. I don't, do I?" Maybe because he was her friend, he could say it differently, but she recognised that Nir'wei was a lot more openly critical of Tristan than Padraig was. Which was good and made her think. But Padraig was quiet and gave her space, and that allowed her to talk through her thoughts.

"Tristan was kinder to me than anyone who has ever owned me. But he owned me. Jamal branded me twice, Tristan only once, but he branded me. I slept on the floor in Jamal's, but that doesn't make the mattress in the cupboard an acceptable way to treat a human being. It's hard to get my head around, Padraig. I know that must sound sily, but it is. I think that's what's really overwhelming me, though. That shift in mindset is huge, but it feels like a big realisation."

She shuffled foward then,pushing the clothes out of the way until she was kneeling next to him where she stopped and leaned against him, taking his hands in hers and holding them on his lap. "He doesn't love me, you do. I don't need to work that out, I already know it, just like I already know that I love you too. And what I want, more than anything, is for you to realise that I've already made my choice. I already know what's best for me and I did the moment I left his house. He bought me, that's all. I choose you. The rest will come, that isn't in doubt, because I'm a free woman and I chose those slippers, and that jumper and you." She lifted her hand to his face in a brief caress of his cheek. "Just you, for me."

But, it was best to take it a small piece a a time, she knew that too. "Would you have a look at my shoulder? It feels tight and strange, but then I've never had stitches before, so it might be those, and I can't see it well" If he was amenable to that, she would basically loosen her dress to the point that she could pull her arm out of it and show him the stab wound. It revealed, of course, some of the criss-cross of scars on her back, all of them old and faded, but the stab was in the front. "How does it look?" she wondered, frowning as she tried to crane her head in such a way that she could see and failing dismally. It did lead to some fairly strange face-pulling, but was otherwise ineffective.

purchases

Woolen Jumpers (Wool Tunic x2)	8sn x 2.2 =17sn 6cn x2	3gn5sn2cn	3gn5sn2cn
Thick wool skirt x2	8sn x 2.2	as above	7gn0sn4n
Boots (Knee)	12 sn	-	8gn2sn4cn
Slippers x 2	2sn	4sn	8gn6sn4cn
Knitting Needles	1gn	--	9gn6sn4cn
Crochet Hooks x 2	5sn	1gn	10gn6sn4cn
Ball of Yarn x 8	5sn	4gn	14gn6sn4cn

[Padraig]

[img]/gallery/image ... ge_id=4018[/img]

When she told him the ideas for the charity had come on like a torrent, Padraig was surprised, but nonetheless glad to hear it. "All these big ideas then, and more, they could only have been lying in wait until the time came, and your circumstances changed." Either way, he didn't doubt she could pull it off.

"Wine making for beginners?" he asked then and took the book, flipping curiously through the pages. "That's the place to start. I know nothing about making wine. But it won't interfere with my studies," he reassured her. "In fact, if it's chemistry, in effect, it's just a stone's throw from physics and can only add something to them." He looked on with interest as she pulled out the clothing she'd purchased. Dark colors. Well, except for the slippers. Padraig smiled when she produced a pair for him as well. "Am I particular?" He'd never considered it before. But the camel colored pair would suit him just fine. "Thank you. The floors are getting a bit cold. They'll get more so before they get any warmer."

Did she see things straight? Where her former master was concerned, Padraig didn't think so. Not at all. But then again, she could only compare his treatment of her to what she'd known before. And apparently he was an improvement. But he was still suspicious of the man's motives. Or maybe, the man himself might not even realize. "It's apples to oranges now, isn't it? Your situation now?" he asked. "Before though, apples to apples. You couldn't help but see him as a vast improvement over the treatment you received before. That's understandable."

"Give it time," he suggested. "I think that as you become more accustomed to living as a free woman, with distance, you'll be able to see things much more clearly." Of course, in his mind, it would be all the more difficult to do it, so long as she was visiting the man each trial and seeing after his welfare, rather than leaving a grown man to fend for himself like he ought to. He smiled again, took the hand that caressed his cheek, and kissed it. "And you for me. I do hope I rate higher than those slippers though," he teased.

"Of course I will." As she loosened the stays and bared her shoulder, he couldn't help but notice the old scars, in addition to a newer injury. He frowned. He could guess the source of some of them, but said nothing. Instead he focused on the stitched area, and gently pressed against it with his finger. "It doesn't look red or angry," he remarked. "Not infected at least. It just seems tight, a little shiny there. I guess it's the healing process at work. A little dry. I imagine it itches. You have something for me to put on it that might help?"

[Faith Augustin]

"Well, they told me those were the most straightforward books on the subject and are the ones loaned most often.", which was as much as she had to go on, so she had taken their word for it. But when he asked if he was particular, she couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. Faith smiled a lot and with ease, it was a ready expression on her face but it was rare that she laughed, even a little. "Well, you've always seemed particular about them to me. Especially my shoes. So I assumed that this must come from your unique brand of particular about shoes for yourself. And in fairness, you've always looked dapper to me. Head to foot."

She poked at the clothes and gave a slight shake of her head simultaneously as he suggested that the differences was apples to oranges. "It's more like apples to banquets. Royal banquets, to a starving woman who had never tasted anything other than apples. Or something like that. Maybe pistacho crust. Apples to lamb in pistachio crust" What it was, it wasn't one fruit to another, that was certain. But time, and distance would help. Distance from Tristan, she knew he thought that she should stop going to see him, stop helping him. Did he think that she was still sharing his bed? No, he didn't, she was sure of that and she dismissed the worry with a realisation of just what a foolish idea that was. Her own inscurities talking, and she shushed them for the nonsense they were. They fled, anyhow, mere moments later when he kissed her hand. "They're good slippers, you know", she whispered, but her eyes told more of the truth than her words "And they are the first ever item of clothing I chose. Yours, actually, but you know. Significant slippers". Her hand squeezed his and she smiled in contentment. Brief though they were, there were flashes, trills really, where she just felt calm and relaxed and in the moment with him and, as she lowered the strap of her dress and showed him her shoulder, she prayed that they might occur more and more until they were commonplace and, in fact, the norm.

He frowned as he caught first sight of her. Faith noted the expression but said nothing, just focusing on her attempts to see the wound. Judging by his description, that sounded fine."If it's not red, then the shiny is probably just new skin. I'll have to cut the stitches out in a few trials, but that will be fine. No, if there's no infection, the best thing is to leave it to the open air. I'll keep it clean and that will be fine. Good work.Thank you". Slipping her arm back into her dress and pulling it tight again she leant forward and kissed him on the cheek. "You make a marvellous nurse. Alright. I'm going to put away this yarn, fold up these clothes, then we can get dinner on?"

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

FAITH:

Rewards:

• Story: +5
• Collaboration: +5
• Structure: +5

Knowledges:

• Detection: The Signs That Someone is Home
• Discipline: Don't Babble
• Etiquette: Brush Your Teeth First Thing
• Etiquette: Teasing a Friend with an Amazing Domain Bag
• Intelligence: Your Echo Scroll Will Keep You in Touch
• Padraig: Left on a Door Step as a Baby
• Padraig: Not an Accomplished Cook
• Psychology: A Long-term Slave's Struggle to Truly Embrace Freedom
• Psychology: Accepting That You'll Never Know Your Own Birth Date
• Storytelling: Big Plans for the Future
• Storytelling: Blending Past Experiences With Present Realizations
• Storytelling: Past Accounts of Performing Domestic Skills
• Storytelling: Time Spent at The House of Roses
• Tristan: A Kindly Slave Owner is Still a Slave Owner

Loot:

Echo Scroll Set & Domain Bag
Woolen clothes & sewing supplies
(all items already on your CS)

Loss:

-14gn,6sn,4cn for above supplies (already on your cs)
-300 Bank Points for scrolls and bag (already on your cs)

Injuries:

Your shoulder is healing nicely

Fame:+2

I'm going on the assumption of "general good deeds" with your kind attitude as you were out shopping. I imagine that folks remember "that nice lady".

Comments:

Damn, girl...it's getting very hard finding ways to give you anything that makes any difference with all your maxed 20+ knowledges in everything. I know the Etiquette and Psychology aren't doing you any good. I could have heaped a few more ways of stating how Faith is obviously having a tough time assimilating freedom; but you really have that covered in your CS many times over already.
But if there's anything you think I overlooked, by all means. let me know.

Also, I wonder if you guys have considered using Squirrel's new PC Guild rules to form this Philanthropic organization in the future. It could be You, Faith and Nir'wei to start, by the sound of it. Just a thought.

___________________________________________________________

PADRAIG:

Rewards:

• Story: +5
• Collaboration: +5
• Structure: +5

Knowledges:

• Chemistry: Envisioning the Effective Blend of Poison and Blood Thinner
• Cooking: Simple Breakfast Fare
• Faith: Far-Reaching Future Philanthropic Plans
• Intelligence: Faith's Black Bag has Unnatural Capacity
• Intelligence: Your Echo Scroll Will Keep You in Touch
• Jamal: A Cruel Slave Owner
• Leadership: When to Delegate Chores, and When to Do it Yourself
• Location: House of Roses
• NPC: Jamal: Faith's Past Owner
• Nir'wei: Expressed Interest in Faith's Big Plans
• Nir'wei: Knows Faith is a Free Woman
• PC: Nir'wei: Mount Handler for the Skyriders
• Psychology: The Balance of Obligations to Self and Others
• Psychology: Patience with an Ex-Slave's Slow Embrace of Freedom
• Psychology: Urging an Ex-Slave to Believe in Herself
• Storytelling: Being left on a Doorstep as a Baby
• Surgery: Examining Stitched, Healing Wounds
• Vinting: Benefited by Knowledge of Chemistry
• Vinting: Two Library Books to Study

Loot:

Your half of Faith's Echo Scroll Set

Loss:

Nothing to speak of. A couple eggs and some bread

Injuries:

Nothing to speak of

Fame:0

Sorry, you were not out and about.

Comments:

Like I said to Faith, there were some things I gave you that were essentially redundant, but since I applied them under alternative skill headings, they should count for something.

Something I DO want to mention though is that if you make a bomb of that mix, there are mixed results. I like the idea basically, but the explosion of the shrapnel bomb, will incinerate a good portion of the ghost mushroom and Vine sap, making the poison aspect of the shrapnel considerably less effective.
However, as the alchemy guy on staff, I CAN say I am intrigued by the possibility that such extreme heat could cause some sort of metabolic reaction, resulting in whole new effects.
Something to think about.

PM me with any comments or concerns